The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Carlos gave a soft, dry laugh as he pulled gently on her wrist.
“You’re the one who kicked the door open.”
His smooth skin, handsomely bronzed, and the firm cuts of his chest muscles drew close enough to graze her cheek.
His necklace swayed from side to side.
The portrait inside the swaying pendant against his broad chest was clearly visible.
Elio, who had been squirming, froze mid-motion.
The person in the portrait was a woman.
“…Is she your real lover?”
The words slipped out before Elio could stop herself, and she bit her lip. She tore her eyes away from his chest and spoke as if she were already certain, trying not to let on that she was probing.
“I know you used me to avoid the imperial order to marry Her Highness the Imperial Princess. It’s because you have a lover, isn’t it? Am I right?”
After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Carlos released her wrist and snapped the lid of his pendant shut.
“She’s my mother.”
“…Not your lover?”
Carlos raked back his hair, tilting his head with a cool, pained smile as his brow furrowed.
“Someone I ought to love more than any lover.”
❖ ❖ ❖
The blue dawn, before the sun had fully risen, burned with a heat no less fierce than midday.
Elio stared blankly at the man, who turned out to be an unexpectedly dutiful son—and a fairy of compliments to boot.
“When you do the angled slash, plant your right foot firmly on the diagonal. The moment it lands, cross your arms.”
“Yes! I will correct it immediately!”
At Carlos’s crisp critique, the knight answered loudly without even catching his ragged breath. After barely ten minutes of sparring with Carlos, sweat poured off him like rain.
“Other than that… well done.”
“Ye… Pardon? Thank you, Commander!”
Carlos patted the flustered knight on the shoulder and turned to another knight.
…Is swordplay all these men have in their heads?
Swords at dawn, swords in the morning, swords at lunch, swords in the evening.
On the third day since Carlos had announced they would rest at the inn for three days before moving on—the very day they were set to leave—these wild men who began swordsmanship training the moment they woke up were a wonder to behold.
And the man who gave out compliments so freely was even more of a wonder—and utterly irritating.
When he sparred with her, he hadn’t offered a single word of praise, only glaring at her like she was an idiot and scolding her.
Yet yesterday and today, he showered his own knights with praise.
Elio scowled, about to pick up a pebble, but instead scooped up the puppy the man doted on so terribly.
“Puppy.”
She slid her hand down to scratch the pup’s pink belly.
Why is Carlos so gentle with you, too?
Pouring milk into a washbasin was one thing, but seeing him hold the puppy on his lap all day long, kissing and petting it, made her scoff in disbelief every time.
He said he liked strong things. What’s his deal?
“Well done.”
“Th-Thank you, Commander!”
Amid the sharp clatter of clashing blades, the man’s low, gentle voice drifted over again.
A white petal fluttered down onto the back of Elio’s hand as she listlessly scratched beneath the puppy’s chin.
“Good job.”
The lush acacia tree rustled in the breeze, its shadows shifting slowly. Elio’s eyebrows drooped into a deeper frown.
Hey, puppy. He said ‘well done’ again. What a generous praise fairy—to everyone except me. Right?
“…Ha. Unbelievable.”
A shadow fell over her.
“What’s funny?”
Elio jolted, nearly toppling forward across the bench. Clutching the puppy to her chest, she drew a sharp breath.
“You could at least make some noise when you walk up!”
“I did.”
Elio shifted her hips toward the edge of the bench, putting distance between herself and the man who had sat down right beside her.
Carlos’s distinct cool scent and the smell of sweat unsettled her. His bronzed forearms, radiating heat so intense it made the dawn breeze feel warm, seemed on the verge of brushing against her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Pardon?”
“Is your stomach still hurting?”
“I-I’m fine.”
Elio hugged the puppy tighter and turned her flushed face away. Staring down at her feet, she picked at her fingernails.
“What does ‘fine’ mean? Have you stopped running back and forth to the restroom?”
Elio nodded quickly, her face burning red. Why does he keep asking about that?
“If it flares up again while we’re on the move—”
“Do you like dogs?”
“Not particularly.”
As she hastily changed the subject, the man replied while unbuckling his gauntlets.
A cool breeze stirred beneath the shade of the tree, scattering his thick hair across his brow.
…Liar. You held it and adored it all day.
Elio looked over toward the knights resting across the clearing. Grita caught her eye, sitting slightly apart from the rowdy knights.
Her gaze lingered on Grita’s sturdy shoulders and the ornate heirloom sword resting beside her as she rested after training.
Elio thought that if northern female warriors from novels existed in real life, Grita would be the very definition.
Tall, gentle, and strong, wasn’t a knight like Grita Carlos’s ideal type in every way…?
Suddenly, Elio felt a desire to marry an ordinary, tender man. A man this strong, who made her feel small and inadequate just by existing, made every single moment uncomfortable.
“…I heard you shared a dormitory with Sir Grita. And were in the same club, too.”
“Yeah.”
“You two must have known each other for a really long time. Around ten years?”
“Yeah.”
Unnerved by the man who answered only in monosyllables, Elio muttered another comment just to fill the silence.
“…You’ve never raised a dog before, have you? I have.”
“What was so funny?”
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Elio wet her lips with her tongue.
She vigorously scratched the puppy’s fluffy nape.
It was funny seeing you like dogs. It was funny watching you play the praise fairy, of all things.
“You really do like things that resemble yourself.”
Seeing the woman silently and busily scratching and stroking the puppy’s nape, chest, and belly, Carlos let out a quiet chuckle.
Elio’s hands paused as she kneaded the pup’s soft, pink paws.
“…Me? You think I’m like a puppy?”
“Yeah.”
Elio looked at his thick forearms, then raised her gaze to his intensely masculine face.
“Is that a compliment?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Elio turned her head away again, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her dress.
“I wonder if it is.”
Carlos murmured quietly, as if to himself.
Elio, who had been smoothing down her sleeves, bit her lip and paused. Forcing down the corners of her mouth that threatened to curl upward, she stole a glance at him.
Carlos leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. Gathering her rustling skirts, Elio leaned toward him.
“In what way do we resemble each other?”
She whispered softly, like the rustling acacia leaves.
“Clumsy.”
“……Is that all?”
“Slow. Tripping over everything. Tiny. Yapping. High-maintenance.”
Elio clamped her mouth shut. She kicked a pebble hard, sending up a puff of dust.
The man chuckled softly and kept his eyes closed to rest, while the knights’ hearty laughter rang out loudly in the background.
Swoosh. Beneath the acacia tree, the dappled shadows swayed in a gentle dance.
Elio kept kicking pebbles, and the man remained silent beside her, eyes closed. Elio cast a subtle side-eye at him.
“…You know, I’d like to practice daggers again—”
“Commander! Could you take another look at Nirta’s drills?”
Grita’s soft voice drifted over on the wind. Elio stopped talking, pulling back the toe of her shoe that had been about to kick another pebble.
Carlos lightly tapped the small scatter of pebbles Elio had kicked with his boot. Elio snapped her head away.
“I thought anyone who graduated from the Lübeck Military Academy could handle this much. He seems to be struggling.”
“Is that so? That’s a problem.”
Carlos replied as he rose to his feet. He kicked away the pebble Elio was about to strike, gazing down at her bowed head.
“Sir Grita! That’s truly too harsh! Are you picking on me just because we didn’t attend the same school? The Cyprus Military Academy is far more grueling, you know!”
“Every time you two put us through our paces, you’re like a pair of demons!”
Elio offered an awkward smile, following the hearty laughter of the knights bringing up old academy rivalries between the Empire and the Kingdom, and Grita’s gentle laugh.
A burst of boisterous laughter erupted over freshman memories from the two academies, leaving her standing utterly quiet and alone, unable to join in even a little.
Sitting there like a solitary outsider, she suppressed the murky unease that crept steadily through her chest.
Clasping her cold hands tightly, she looked at Grita, who was now standing side by side with Carlos. Her heart flopped like a fish hauled onto dry land.
Strangely enough.
The timing of Grita repeatedly cutting into her conversations…
Did not feel like a coincidence.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Stop that damn grinning.”
“Hahaha. I’m just glad to see you. I was truly worried sick that you wouldn’t come.”
Dressed in a pristine, pressed white uniform, Harry Pearlbuck—1st Imperial Prince of the Empire and Commander of the Holy Knights—guided the woman with eyes curved like crescent moons.
Showing the courtesy not of an Imperial Prince, but of a disciple.
“The old bastard wouldn’t stop throwing a fit.”
The imposing, broad-shouldered woman clicked her tongue as she stepped through the golden doors. Fitting for the Great General of the Papacy, brilliant light cascaded over her exceptionally tall frame.
The House of Nobles, its towering ceiling commanding sheer reverence.
The stained-glass ceiling glittered in full spectrum, and detailed frescoes depicting the founding myth were etched into the walls.
“What does eradicating an epidemic have to do with a House of Nobles meeting anyway? I told you never to call me unless it’s to hunt monsters, damn it.”
“An emergency consensus regarding the regional deployment of exorcism personnel is to be reached. Ah, and regarding Her Highness the Imperial Princess’s broken engagement as well.”
“Broken engagement? When was the Imperial Princess ever engaged?”
“Well, an engagement ceremony with Sir Carlos was scheduled to take place, but…”
Above the murmuring voices.
Clang, clang, clang. The sharp strikes of the gavel echoed through the hall, announcing the start of the emergency Parliament session.
Before long, the House of Nobles was packed to the brim with council members. The Empress sat at the central high seat; to the left sat the Emperor’s Faction and the Imperial Princess, while to the right sat the Papal Faction and the Clergy Nobles.
Following the solemn opening address, silence fell, broken only by the scratching of pens.
The Empress, adorned in elegant pearls, spoke.
“As His Majesty remains indisposed today, I shall convey His Majesty’s will on his behalf.”
At the routine announcement, the nobles twirled their pens with indifferent expressions.
“As for our first agenda, we must address the Imperial Family’s official stance regarding the Imperial Princess’s broken engagement.”
Scanning the chamber calmly, the Empress began to speak with a grave expression.
